


Ahah, what if we killed each other? Just kidding! Unless...?

by indecisivemess



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Blood and Injury, Implied/Referenced Torture, Just angst, Knives, Not Beta Read, This aint crack i promise, i have no idea how to tag this, this doesnt have a happy ending, we just die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23917456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indecisivemess/pseuds/indecisivemess
Summary: Mark was always extremelly picky with his preys. They had to be sweet and kind, but not unbearably so. Just enough so manipulation and well timed charming smiles would tug them in and make them stay. You could say Ethan was a... long time project, when it came to his hobby. He had been planning this for years now, and finally, finally, he was gonna close this chapter and move on with his life.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Ahah, what if we killed each other? Just kidding! Unless...?

**Author's Note:**

> Im being extremelly serious, PLEASE LOOK AT THE TAGS. Those are your trigger warnings. I dont think i went too overboard with the descripitons, but I actually felt kinda nausceous trying to write this down after a bit, and I dont want anyone feeling bad because of me.
> 
> That being said, hi. I bet no one is gonna read the notes, but this aint shippy. They are "friends", and their girlfriends exist. I just got this stupid idea from that one Unus Annus vid where they smacked watermellons and talked about how they'd murder each other. Enjoy?

This week was going to be the perfect chance to strike, Mark was sure of it. He and Ethan had come up with some video ideas they could do together, and as a result of that, one of them had suggested that Ethan should just sleep over to save some time. The loveable idiot had then proceded to ramble about pillow forts, and what movies they could watch in their down time; Mark only chirped in occasionally, letting the other make his weird noises and his ADD run wild.

As they vid chatted, Mark’s face was relaxed, comfortable even, and any of his fans would tell you that was because he was in the presence of one of his closest friends, but oh, how wrong they would be. The mask kept slipping, and the few, illuminated smiles that would come loose as Ethan talked barely hadanything to do with what he was saying.

The thrill was slowly but surely overcoming him. He could feel it, flowing up his arms, sparking at the tips of his fingers. All of his muscles were tense, but the burn was amazing. The knot of concentration slowly forming at the back of his neck was making him lose his grip on the conversation that was still happening, but Mark couldn’t find it in him to care.

He was finally going to kill Ethan.

He was still thinking about it, as he went to sleep that night. The conditions were perfect. Amy was visiting her parents, and most of his friends and family knew not to disturb him after a certain hour, so Mark was sure he was going to slip under the radar, smooth as butter. No one would suspect a thing.

The weekend rolled around. Ethan showed up at his doorstep, a backpack in hand, and Mark could only focus on how he’d have to dispose of that later. The annoying chatterbox was already blabbing, and it was only 8 am. As they were getting to know each other, the older man had found it somewhat adorable. That small fact had actually fueled his fantasies for days on end, leaving the familiar rush of the thrill going for weeks, from simply imagining how excruciatingly perfect it would be when he could finally shut him up forever, but now, he caught himself wondering if the end would actually be worth it.

Ethan settled in, and Mark pushed the thoughts to the back of his head to use for later. You can find it hard to believe, but he honestly liked being a youtuber. The tight schedule, the lack of general privacy, the deadlines, and the fact that 25 million people in the world knew of his existence and “normal” life generated a feeling somewhat close to the one that would spark when he found a new target. The similarities were all there, and some livestreams sprinkled generously over the course of the month - some for charities, some just to throw off suspicion -, helped tie everything together with a nice, pretty bow.

The pair finally settled in, and together drew the general outlines of what they wanted to do and got to recording. There was never a script involved, only bullet points of what should and/or could happen. Ethan said that made the laughs genuine and the fans happy, but Mark knew that was bullshit. His friend’s general lack of attention was bad enough that he would most likely forget about their plans, if they ever mapped it out, so the brunette would just play along and let him be do his thing.

Their eyes were sore as they watched the oranges and purples dance in the sky, the little bit of it they could see, behind the camera setup and out the big window of Mark’s living room. Sunsets always hit different when they had worked their asses off, and could now enjoy their break, before putting on the effort to go drag everything up the stairs and back to Mark’s room.

Ethan had taken the liberty to sprint for the kitchen, hiding in the pantry and filling his arms with bags of potato chips and the like, in preparation for their sleepover. He didn’t care that they had to sleep, really. Tonight was going to be special.

He snuggled up on the couch, snacks thrown carelessly over the table, and he watched curiosuly as Mark left the room to go grab some blankets, Netflix loading up on the TV in front of him. His friend came back after a while, his strong arms flexed as he brought the heavy ones, the ones he knew Ethan loved. The smaller one let out a happy squeal as the fabric was dropped over him, and then a hum followed as Mark naturally came to cuddle to his side.

They didn’t need more words for now. The older man was talking and explaining this movie he had been wanting to see for some time now, and Ethan just watched him with a content expression, the warmth and the comfort steadily lulling him to sleep. By the time Mark had actually reached over for the remote, setting up the film, Ethan’s eyes were drooping, the whites of his eyes barely visible.

His chest burned with a passion, intensity staring at the small, curled up figure of his prize, struggling not to fall asleep.

For once in his life, he hesitated, a very tiny part of him whispering, hissing at him not to follow through with his plans. Mark was almost surprised with himself, frozen in place as the emotions took over, and he was left a victim of his own consciousness as that sensation growed uncontrollably, overtaking him. His hands carefully reached to pull Ethan closer, his plans yelling at him to just grab the guy and go, but his heart ignored the voice, soaring as his friend whined quietly, complaining that he wasn’t sleeping, before curling up and landing his weight on him. His friend...

Mark couldn’t focus much on the movie after that. He was aware his eyes were seeing the pictures passing by, but his brain was elsewhere, running a mile an hour. He had never felt remorse before. Was, this how it felt like? It could be. It was heavy, and icky, and it slimmed around in his chest. Fear didn’t feel like this. Fear was cold, and sharp. Regret was just annoying, and irritatingly small. This was bigger than that.

A sigh forced its way out of his throat, and his appetite disappeared, eyeing the snacks on the table with uninterest disgust. The movie ended before he realized it, Mark really only coming to himself when the credits were already rolling on the screen. Ethan was, predictably, still curled up, clinging to his left arm like it was a plushie, even drooling a little, and he couldn’t take this!

Mark suddenly felt his skin prickling, the need to move overwhelming. He needed air, and he needed it _now_. Untangling from the other, he had half the consciousness to notice that Ethan hadn’t woken up, before rapidly making his way to the back door, throwing it open and stepping outside. The cold night air brushing against his cheeks and settling into his lungs promptly grounded him back to the present, and after a while, he let his eyes wander across his backward, just trying to ignore his emotions for a little bit. He needed to clean the pool soon. Maybe mow the lawn too. The oranges that had fallen off the trees were barely visible from how tall the grass was getting.

He was vaguely aware he was hearing noises in the distance, but he assumed they were maybe the neighbours, or Chica walking around; he couldn’t tell if they were coming from inside the house or not. Sometimes she’d wake up when she heard him opening doors around the house at night, just to check if it was him. It was cute and inconvinient in equal parts, depending on the night that they were talking about.

He felt a presence behind him, a quiet breathing, and ignoring his sharp intuition for once, Mark decided to take one second longer to stare at the sky, observing the few light stars that were visible; typical smile already in place once he turned around to greet his puppy. He should have realized it wasn’t her when he didn’t hear the typical jiggle of her collar, or her claws scratching at the wooden floor. What greeted him instead was a sight he had never expected, of Ethan, still wrapped around the blankets he had landed him, a frying pan rapidly approaching his face.

Mark barely registered the hit, the throbbing pain that came with it, or his unconscious body hitting the floor. Ethan’s breathing had gotten heavy with enthusiasm, and the adrenaline pumping through his veins almost forced a laugh out of him. It had actually worked! The plan was working! Going to the gym was finally paying off.

With some effort, the smaller one managed to drag Mark’s body back inside, gripping onto his strong ankles for dear life, and wow, his mind was already travelling, imagining how hard it was going to be to tear through his tough muscles.

It was going to be so much _fun_.

Some time passed, but not nearly enough, in Ethan’s opinion. He had just finished tying up his possession into the neat little looking table he had found when Mark’s beautiful pupils came into sight. The poor thing looked lost and confused. When his body finally processed the pain, he groaned and struggled against his ties, only then realizing them, and the mix of emotions that twirled around his face made Ethan’s heart speed up.

\- Hello, Mark – he said smoothly, and his possession’s head shot up to look in his direction, like he was only then realizing he was there, right before another wave of pain coursed through him at his rushed movements. – Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

Something similar to fear shone in Mark’s eyes, and that had him biting at his lip to control his crazed smile, carefully approaching the table as the other quickly asserted the situation, the shock quickly pooling in, cold and nauseating.

\- Surprised? – Ethan giggled darkly, and the taller man never thought he could hear such a noise coming out of his mouth. – I found this neat little corner last time I came to sleep over. You were snoring so loudly.

His hand reached for Mark’s face, but the other leaned away from his touch the best he could, glaring at him with hateful eyes.

\- Stop playing games, Ethan. If that’s even your name.

The sound of his struggles echoed around the room, and the sad groans that poured from his lips at his failed attempts filled the cute youtuber with glee. This was being so much fun already!

\- It is – he smiled like you were showing him the cutest puppy in the world, and leaned in close to the table, enjoying every second of Mark’s efforts to pull away from the hand slowly undoing his shirt. – But really, I was shocked when I found your secret play room. I thought it was for kinky stuff until I saw the blood.

His hairy chest came into view, and Ethan took the time to appreciate the other’s body while it was still intact, his fingernails lightly scratching down, testing his skin, before wandering his eyes to Mark’s face. Oh, he looked _pissed_.

\- What? I thought we were friends, Mark! You could have told me about your hobby – he said with fake amusement, walking over to the wall and grabbing one of the many knives on display.

And really, his play room was so impressive! Dared he say, even better than his. The fact that it was just under the house got him points for convenience – it really hadn’t been easy to find - and all the weapons- the _weapons, oh!_ The hammers, the shotguns, the saws. From how they were stored, they looked like normal things that you would find in your weird uncle’s shed, maybe just parts of a complicated pastime – Mark had been a carpenter in the past too- but the cabinet filled with pretty looking flasks and bottles truly threw off that suspicion. Ethan was really hoping those were acids he could play with.

\- What are you going to do with me? – Mark spoke up, surprising the killer with his calm tone of voice. – You know this is stupid, right? I have so much more subscribers than you. I upload every day. If I miss tomorrow, they will-

The blade of the knife passed smoothly over Mark’s skin, awakening a sharp red line over where it touched. Ethan hadn’t even used that much strength, so the cut wasn’t deep, but oh, he might have to take this one home! You could see his possession took good care of his things.

The now wounded man did his best to keep himself from making any pained noises, his face scrunched up in displeasure. He could barely believe it. This fucker- right when he was considering letting him live, he does this!

\- I’m being serious, Ethan – there was an edge to his voice, not panic, not yet. – If you let me go now, we can just forget this ever happened and go back to being friends.

The hand that held the knife stopped going down, and from the positionment, it almost seemed like the small man was about to stab him. His words must have broken his focus, because now his cold, uncalculated eyes were looking into his very soul. It send shivers down his spine, a certain sense of doom hovering over their heads. Mark hasn’t sure what he should find odder in this situation, the fact that his plans had turned against him, or the part where this was almost too normal. He had always kept his play room nice and neat, decently lit. Those deceptive horror takes where you’d see the screen going dark, the lights flickering, the floor dirty and unkept... The trapped man almost wished he was in a horror movie.

\- Oh, you sweet thing – Ethan said, sarcasm dripping out of his mouth as he moved his hand to touch his face again. So distracted he was with the impending dread that he might actually die like this, the trapped mad didn’t notice the touch until the hand was already cupping his cheek, electricity coursing between the points of contact. – We were never friends.

While it lasted, Mark felt disgusting, just barely holding back the need to bite his hand, but now that it was gone, he craved Ethan’s touch again, the truth that had slip past his lips shaking the last few foundations of his sanity. The operation table he was laying on was so stiff and uncomfortable.

\- N-Now, don’t joke around-

He barely had time to widen his eyes before the dagger was being roughly stabbed onto his right bicep. Somehow, he manage to gather all of his will to not cry out in pain, trying his best to force his gaze the other way, but there was something disturbingly amazing about being stabbed. It only really hurt as the blade was shoved in, as it broke through his skin, but now that he had gritted his teeth and unnaturally focused on his breathing, the pain had subdued somehow. Or maybe the blood loss was already affecting his perception of reality.

Mark dreadfully wanted to believe he was stronger than this.

\- I’m not joking.

Ethan had never looked this serious. The person he had met all those years back, the one with which he had shared so many good and bad moments, was looking at him with the blankest stare he had ever seen on anyone before. His stand was calm, all smooth movements, and Mark wondered about how much he had been lied about. Ethan was the clumsiest, weakest little guy he knew, and yet, he had somehow knocked him unconscious, found his secret room and dragged him all the way there.

The weight of that realization brought desperate tears to Mark’s eyes, hot and burning.

\- Aww, don’t worry – Ethan hushed in a sweet tone, before reaching for the knife and firmly pulling it out of his arm, Mark’s loud shout making him lose his focus for a second. – You can be useful to me now.

The tips of his pale fingers reached for the open wound and pressed down, and for someone that usually handled pain really well, Mark already had tears streaming down his face, his unblinking eyes staring at the ceiling, like a silent prayer.

It had been almost too easy to break him.

Oh well, Ethan wasn’t greedy.

His bloody fingers curled around the knife, the red liquid making his grip on the handle slip a bit, but that wasn’t a problem. His fun was just starting.

**Author's Note:**

> Either way, comments are more than apreciated. I somehow managed to scoot in this idea between college projects and 1(one) depression episode. Im aware of how lackluster this is. Dont like it, just leave.


End file.
